Taxis buzzed past me going sixty and screeched to zero in a heartbeat at the command of a traffic light turned red.
Impatient horns honked their love language, tempering the restless drivers as they waited to be released from their hold and jockeyed for position.
Pedestrians littered the sidewalks, and street vendors sat behind their tables doing their best to convince passersby to snag their goods.
And a mid-seventies man with a hunchback and a pink tutu over a thong combed the sidewalk in front of me, offering to do a dance in exchange for some booze money.
I’m back, bitches.
New York City—the one and only city that always felt like home. And, good God, she was just as gorgeous and eclectic and stubborn and vibrant as she was the day I’d left her some twelve odd years ago. Sure, I’d visited—the old girl’s stubborn lure was too strong to resist in her entirety—but it wasn’t the same as knowing this was where I’d be living from here on out.
Everything had come full circle, and the job that had once stolen me away from the Big Apple had finally led me right back to my favorite place in the entire world.
Chase Murray International, or CMI for short, was my employer, and I’d been working for the world-renowned firm ever since I’d graduated from NYU. Specializing in international marketing and advertising executives and elite healthcare professionals, we only scouted the most sought after CEOs and talented medical professionals in the world.
My specialty: physicians. Surgeons, to be specific.
Even though my degree from NYU was in business, and I had zero healthcare experience, I’d proved over the years that I had a knack for finding only the best surgeons. And I was even better at convincing them to leave their current place of employment and relocate to a hospital that needed and desired their expertise.
It wasn’t necessarily what I’d planned out for my career, but over the years, I’d grown to love the freedom my job allowed.
I worked my own schedule, set my own hours, and had the capability of doing everything on my own time.
And it was a lot less physically strenuous than something like stripping. Instead of spending my time keeping my figure trim, I wooed people by taking them out to dinner.
Food for the win!
It was a dream, to be honest. And the only negative I’d found was the demand for relocation.
But CMI had made some changes, and now, I’d be permanently in New York with the occasional need for travel.
Not to mention, I’d finally be able to utilize my separate savings account that I’d not-so-creatively titled “house fund.”
Ever since I’d started working for CMI, I’d been stockpiling money away for the hope of purchasing my own home, but I’d never stayed in one place long enough to even consider looking for a house. But now, I was back in my city, and not only would I be enjoying the sights and sounds and energetic vibe, but I’d also have my eyes wide open for real estate.
Fingers and toes and legs crossed I find something sooner rather than later, because living in a sardine-box-sized apartment in Chinatown is no easy feat.
“Hey! Watch it, lady!” a cabbie shouted out of his window as I crossed the street, and then honked his horn twice for good measure.
I startled, nearly dropping my briefcase to the ground, but then, then I smiled.
New York. Good God, she was beautiful.
The lights of Times Square danced and swirled in the late afternoon sun as I headed toward the subway station on 42nd to catch the Shuttle to Grand Central. I’d taken a detour, the long route, so to speak, but it was all in the name of seeing and breathing and just living my city again.
Hell, twelve years ago, I would’ve avoided Times Square like the plague. All of those tourists milling about, crowding the sidewalks, and making it damn near impossible to get anywhere faster than at a snail’s pace—nauseating.
But not today.
Today, I celebrated. I strolled past Times Square with my earbuds pumping Taylor Swift’s “Welcome to New York” in my ears and a giant, stupid smile on my face. I’d only been back a week and was still living out of cardboard boxes inside the small apartment I’d rented in Chinatown, but I couldn’t be happier because New York.
It was the best city in the world.
Most of us were exiles, looking for something we didn’t find in our small town or another city that just couldn’t give us what we needed. Even Paris or London or Los Angeles. No other city compared to the Big Apple.
It was the city that asked nothing of us, except that we make ourselves brand-new.
No other city demanded that.
Other cities asked us for nothing because they had nothing to give in return. They wanted you to stay close to Mom and Dad. They made it easy to have the white picket fence, the minivan, and two point five kids. But they didn’t bring you to life.
New York, though. She didn’t negotiate with biological clock-ticking terrorists.
Instead, she demanded to be entertained, and entertained in return. And you could believe, for a certain time, that New York was going to recognize you, that New York would reward you, that New York would confirm what you had suspected all along about yourself—that you were special.
It was a city attributed with godlike qualities, and for good reason. I had never felt more blessed and more cursed, alternately, in a single day than the way I'd felt here.
Chicago, where I’d spent five years of my twenties, was like a warm bathtub.
But, New York, well, she was the ocean.
Black pumps in overdrive, I reached the corner of 42nd and Broadway and click-clacked my way down the subway stairs until I was safely inside the Shuttle. And, three trains later, I was standing in front of the entrance doors of St. Luke’s.
I had a neurosurgeon by the name of Dr. Nick Raines to charm, impress, and sway toward a brand-new, state-of-the-art hospital in Los Angeles. Sure, it was thousands of miles away from his current home base, but I’d done my research. The man had only settled down at St. Luke’s a few years ago, but prior to accepting his position as Chief of Neurosurgery, he had traveled all over the country—starting in good old Californ-I-A. It wasn’t a sure thing, but a history of willingness sure was helpful.
And his track record was unbelievable. The man was an enigma in his already difficult field. He took the cases no one else wanted to take, and he still managed to keep his success rate in the ninetieth percentile. That was practically unheard of when it came to brain surgeons.
But, even though relocating Dr. Raines to Los Angeles would end in one hell of a commission bonus, he wasn’t my only ace in the hole when it came to neurosurgeons in New York. I’d learned early on as a headhunter never to put all of your eggs in one basket. Even though Kennedy Medical Center was convinced they wanted Dr. Raines as their new Chief of Neurosurgery, I knew he wasn’t the only good fit for them.
I had three more candidates on my list, and one in particular, Dr. Sylvia Morris, was already looking for a relocation to the West Coast to be near her family.
Through the entrance doors and onto the elevator, I made my way toward Dr. Raines’s office, located in the Medical Arts Building off the east wing of the hospital. Before I reached the fourth floor, I turned off my music, slipped my earbuds out of my ears, and slid my phone into my purse.
A young, perky redhead of a receptionist sat behind the desk inside of his waiting room. She smiled jovially as I pushed through the office doors and walked inside.
“Good afternoon,” she greeted. “How can I help you?”
“Hello—” I glanced discreetly at the name tag on her scrub top “—Jenna.” Her smile grew wider. I was in the business of knowing what people wanted, and everyone wanted to feel like they were someone, not just some nameless face behind a desk. “My name is Charlotte Hollis,” I explained. “I have a four o’clock meeting scheduled with Dr. Raines.”
Jenna scrolled through the calendar on her computer. She clicked the mouse a few times before smiling again in my direction. “Dr. Raines is running a little behind with a patient, but it should only be about ten minutes.” She hopped up from her seat and gestured me toward the door beside her desk. “If you’d like to follow me back to his office, you can wait for him there.”
“Sounds good.” I nodded and followed her lead.
Jenna led me down the hallway until we reached the large office tucked away in the back. A big mahogany desk sat in the center, and behind that, a floor-to-ceiling window. “Just make yourself comfortable,” she instructed and pointed toward the two leather chairs sitting in front of the desk. “Dr. Raines should be back shortly.”
“Thank you, Jenna,” I said before she shut the door behind her.
I set my briefcase on the floor beside one of the chairs and walked over toward the window.
The busy streets were filled with yellow cabs. Central Park. Manhattan.
Hot damn. Dr. Raines had one hell of a view. It was so good that I immediately thought he’d be a fool to leave this city—with this fantastic fucking office—for a job on the West Coast.
I mean, LA was great, but it wasn’t this.
Trust me, I knew well enough. I’d spent most of 2013 in the City of Angels.
The click of the knob caught my attention, and I turned quickly, trying to look calmly professional from my position behind someone else’s desk. A man dressed in a white medical coat, black slacks, a baby blue collared shirt and a matching tie strode inside, and I straightened my spine. He wasn’t just any man—he was a tasty treat of striking brown eyes, five-day-old scruff, and a strong jawline that sculptors would spend their whole lives trying to recreate.
Basically, if this was Nick Raines, he was sexy as fuck. Most forty-year-old neurosurgeons looked like they’d been run over a few times by a van thanks to unforgiving schedules, unreal pressure, and a stubborn inability to delegate.
But I knew from experience, the pretty ones were sometimes the biggest assholes, and if I were really lucky, misogynistic to boot. I’d have to be ready because fuck if Charlotte Hollis was going to let a man run her down.
“Charlotte Hollis?” he asked, his voice rough with the stress and weariness I’d found missing from his appearance, but welcoming all the same. I moved forward from the window and rounded the desk until I wasn’t on his side of the territory anymore.
“I am,” I said with a small smile. “You must be Dr. Raines.”
Please say yes.
“I am.” I couldn’t ignore the waves of satisfaction that filled my belly.
Well, hello, Doctor.
He offered a friendly smile and held out his hand.
Obviously, I took it willingly. “It’s a pleasure, Dr. Raines,” I said. “I hope you’ll excuse me for shamelessly enjoying your view.”
I honestly wasn’t sure if I was talking about the window or him. Probably both.
“No apology necessary.” He waved me off with a nonchalant hand. “Considering I spend most of my time either in the OR or in patient exam rooms, I’m thankful at least someone is able to enjoy it.”
I grinned. A neurosurgeon who wasn’t overtly possessive of his property and ideals? Maybe unicorns do exist. “That’s a shame.”
“I know, right?” he teased and shrugged out of his white medical jacket. “If someone would go scatter some brains out there, they might let me look every once in a while.”
I barked a laugh, and he winced. “I guess that’s a little gory, huh?”
I shrugged. “Maybe. Funny, though.”
Visible lines of lean and toned muscles strained and stretched beneath his baby blue dress shirt.
Good Lord, this man did not fit the bill for a surgeon.
No time to look out the window, but you must have time to work out, I see.
I pinched my wrist to wake myself up. I’d come this close to saying that out loud.
But the more I stared at his friendly face with a contrastingly hard jaw, the more I realized who he kind of resembled. Henry fucking Cavill. If his eyes were blue instead of brown, the likeness would have been good enough to fool a few gullible people.
“Please take a seat,” he said, and I followed his instruction, sitting down in the leather chair in front of his desk. All the while, I fought internally between looking away like a professional and gawking at his body as he walked around his desk and sat down like a predator stalking its prey.
I managed about a half a second of looking at his tile floor.
“What can I help you with today?” He sat in the chair behind his desk and rolled it forward, leaning back with his elbows on the armrests. I watched his body melt into the leather as if it was maybe the first time he’d sat down all day.
He raised an eyebrow when I didn’t answer immediately, too busy critiquing his buttery body to remember not to be an idiot.
I sat straighter instead of fidgeting, even though I wanted to desperately, and dove into my spiel.
“One of the youngest Chiefs of Neurosurgery in the country and a physician with a surgical record better than most general surgeons, you’ve made a hell of an impression in your field,” I began, complimenting his achievements before getting to the job opportunity. “And ever since you took on the position at St. Luke’s, their Neurology Department has increased profits by two hundred percent. That’s an incredible list of accomplishments.”
“I guess it is, yeah.” He shrugged, seemingly lacking in the normal surgeon ego I was accustomed to dealing with. Was this guy really that humble? Or was he just that tired? I mean, I personally became a raging toddler when I was overexhausted, but maybe he just mellowed.
“How long are you planning on staying at St. Luke’s?”
“Permanently.”
I quirked a brow. “So, you have no interest in other job opportunities that might bring you more money and opportunity for state-of-the-art growth?”
“I guess that depends.”
Ah, yes! Everyone had a weakness. My inner cheerleader did a Herkie.
It’s a jump where your legs do unnatural things, okay?
And give me a break. It was high school.
“On what?” Mentally, I started categorizing what Kennedy was prepared to offer and where they could bend to make themselves undeniably appealing. Every company had a starting salary they wanted me to drive, but normally, they also had an extra twenty percent of wiggle room to get the job done.
“Location.”
Okay, fuck. It had to be the one thing I can’t change, didn’t it?
“Kennedy Medical Center is a brand-new hospital, and they are extremely impressed by your career. They think you would be the perfect fit for the Neurology Department, and they are ready and willing to compensate you well if you join their team.”
“Compensate me well? How much are we talking about here?”
I weighed the options in my mind and decided gambling with a number on the higher end of what Kennedy was willing to do was necessary. They wanted this guy. He was either going to be convinced by the money or not, but they were going to need to bring their best offer to have any hope. “Nearly double your current salary.”
“Double my current salary? I had no idea that kind of information was public knowledge,” he challenged.
“It’s not,” I explained with a wink.
He chuckled outright. “Friends in high places?”
I shrugged. “I guess you could say it’s something like that.”
“Well, I’m intrigued.” He laughed a little to himself. “Double money is never a bad thing.”
No kidding.
“But like I said before, it all depends on location,” he went on. “I don’t want to relocate anywhere that’s more than forty minutes from New York, and I have a feeling Kennedy Medical Center isn’t located anywhere near here.” His voice was firm, and my heart sank. She’s going down by the keel, Captain!
“It’s actually located on the West Coast. Los Angeles, to be specific.”
He shook his head. “That won’t work at all.”
I narrowed my eyes, determined. I hated not closing a deal. “What if I told you they would give you a fifteen-million-dollar budget for neurosurgery research and clinical trials?”
His brows shot up in surprise. “Fifteen million dollars?”
“Yes.” I nodded. “And you’d have the final say in what that money went toward.”
“Wow.”
“It’s quite the opportunity.”
“It is,” he agreed, but I could tell by the lilt of his eyes that he was just humoring me.
I’d grown extremely talented at reading people, and I could read Nick Raines. He had a reason for being in New York; I didn’t know what it was, but it was a priority. More important than money. I discreetly glanced at his left ring finger and found no evidence of marriage. Instant relief filled and relaxed my stomach.
“I could do incredible things with that research budget. It would be a strong ally in a clinical trial I’ve been trying to get the FDA to push through, but I can’t move to LA.”
“Would you like some time to think about it?” I asked, but I already knew his answer. With the firm lines of his jaw and clear, unmarred color of his brown eyes, Nick Raines was steadfast in his choice.
With two determined shakes of his head, he further explained—something someone less amiable than him never would have bothered to do. “My daughter is in New York, and she is my top priority.”
His daughter.
This man was leaving one hell of a career opportunity on the table for his daughter. I was equal parts endeared and impressed. It was a noble choice. The right choice. No career should ever come before family—no matter how amazing the opportunity might be.
“Well, Kennedy Medical Center will be severely disappointed, but I can’t say I am. Good for you. Your daughter is lucky.”
He smiled softly, but there was a sharp edge to it that I couldn’t understand—obviously didn’t have the right to. Still, I was curious.
“If they were a few thousand miles closer, I would have strongly considered, but LA is just way too far.”
“Understandable,” I acquiesced.
Normally, I would’ve shaken his hand and gone about my day, but something about him wouldn’t let go. I wanted to know more about him. And not just his job. “What time is it?” I asked, and he glanced at his watch.
“A little after five.”
“No wonder I’m hungry.” I slapped my hands down onto my thighs and grinned. “What are you in the mood for?”
“Huh?”
“To eat?”
“Uh…” He glanced around the room, confused. “I’m not sure. I hadn’t planned on eating yet—”
“Well, I’m sure you’ll get your appetite on the way,” I said and stood from my chair with my briefcase in hand. “All right, then. Let’s go.”